


chart and compass

by blackkat



Series: Shaak Ti drabbles [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Family, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Humor, Padawan Tup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Isn't one near miss with a Jedi enough?” Boba asks judgmentally.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett, CC-6454 | Ponds/Mace Windu, Jango Fett/Shaak Ti, Shaak Ti & CT-3585 | Tup
Series: Shaak Ti drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941679
Comments: 49
Kudos: 899
Collections: Fun/Humour/Crack in a Galaxy Far Far Away, Jedi Journals, Star Wars Alternate Universes





	chart and compass

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: If you don't mind? To write something with Shaak Ti? And either (her Padawan) Tup, Colt or Jango. Just. Some fluff. Maybe training?

“Isn't one near miss with a Jedi enough?” Boba asks judgmentally.

It’s just like having Myles around again, Jango thinks, not entirely sure he means it as a compliment, and checks his blaster pistol. “I'm a Jedi killer,” he tells his son. “There are always going to be more Jedi coming after me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to go _looking_ for them,” Boba points out, folding his arms over his chest. He does not look thrilled by this plan, and didn’t when Jango first mentioned it to him, either.

“I want to see what that kriffing _Jetii_ did to him,” Jango says curtly, and Boba rolls his eyes but still unfolds enough to pass Jango his helmet.

“I don’t think she would have _done_ anything to him.” Boba settles back in the chair, frowning as he watches Jango check his gear one last time. “Jedi powers aren’t, like, the rakghoul plague. You can't just _catch_ them.”

“They're not?” Jango asks dryly. “Then how do you explain one of _my_ clones ending up with Force powers?”

Boba's smile is pure innocence. “Maybe you're Force-sensitive too, Dad.”

Jango narrows his eyes at his son, who looks supremely unrepentant. “Stay on the ship,” he says.

That gets him another roll of Boba's eyes. “I'm the reason you survived _last_ time!” he protests. “Mace would have cut your head off if I hadn’t asked him not to!”

If he has to hear Boba talk about the _head of the Jedi Council_ like Mace Windu is a weird friend he picked up at a backwater cantina one more time, Jango is going to start taking out hits on Jedi Councilors. Again. Infuriatingly, Windu seems more amused by it than anything, and he keeps sending Boba _gifts_ every time one of Jango's assassination attempts fails. Jango has a sinking feeling that the next one is probably going to be a loth-cat or something.

“Stay on the ship,” he repeats, and Boba huffs, slumping in his seat. Unconcerned by the pout, Jango slides his helmet on, then stalks down the ramp, ordering, “No one gets in. And no comming that _di’kutla Jetii_.”

“Sure, Dad,” Boba says, like Jango can't see him already reaching for his comm unit. Jango rolls his eyes, but leaves him to it, because he’d rather not turn it into a fight. He always seems to lose those.

Still. There's more than enough to worry about besides Boba; the planet’s quiet, almost unnervingly so, and it looks a little too much like the unsettled parts of Concord Dawn for Jango's tastes. He pauses at the edge of the ridge beyond the ship, looking down over a narrow valley, and frowns.

There’s a starfighter parked by the bank of a river, the Jedi Order’s insignia clear on its side. A two-seater, detached from the rest of the fleet that passed a day or so ago, and just the sight of it itches under Jango's skin like anger. He ignites his jetpack before he can think better of it, dropping down the edge of the cliff, and lands in a crouch beside the river, a few yards from the fighter. Its engines are cold when he puts a hand on it, but the astromech droid turns its head and whistles angrily at him, a warning to get his dirty paws away from her ship.

“Just looking, sweetheart, don’t blow a circuit,” Jango tells her, raising his hands and stepping away. He ducks under the wing before she can try her electric prod on him, sweeping a look over the quiet trees. The river sounds too loud, echoing through the valley, and Jango's not a fan. Of course a Jedi would set up somewhere like this, though; it’s about as aggravating as they are.

Whatever else Jango can say about them, Jedi don’t tend to leave tracks unless it’s a path of bodies, and this one is certainly no exception. Jango scouts the area for a few minutes, but finds no trace of where she and the clone disappeared to. He’s about ready to go back to the ship and start up the scanners, no matter what catty comments Boba might make, when the wind dies away all at once, stilling the trees and the moaning over the cliffs. In the new hush, Jango catches the rise and fall of voices from beyond the trees, and he frowns, pushing through the small wood with care.

The river bends here, turning away towards the far end of the valley, and it leaves a stand of tall rocks in the middle of the grassy field, just beyond the line of trees. Perched on the shortest one, a Togruta woman watches the brown-robed form of one of Jango's clones as the kid runs through exercises. Her back is to Jango, and he pauses, wary of the range of awareness her montrals give her, but—

He can see the clone, the yellow lightsaber in his hands. The padawan braid behind his ear, long enough to pass his shoulder, and the expression of brilliant, almost joyful concentration on his face as he moves.

It’s—jarring, maybe. Jango's own face in Jedi robes, wielding a Jedi weapon, and looking _happy_ about it.

“Very good, Tup,” the Togruta says warmly, and unfolds from her seat on the rock, leaping lightly down to land beside the clone. “I believe we can safely say you’ve learned another kata.”

The clone flushes faintly, deactivating the ‘saber and straightening up. “Thank you, Master,” he says quickly. “It feels good. I like it.”

The Jedi hums, thoughtful, and rests a hand on Tup's shoulder briefly as she passes. “I believe Makashi will indeed suit you well,” she agrees. “It is a very elegant form.”

Tup ducks his head, cheeks red. He doesn’t look that much older than Boba, and Jango's heard the Jedi got the Kaminoans to stop the rapid aging now that the war’s winding down, so he might be that age in reality, too. “I like it,” he says again, and asks, “Do we have much time left, Master Shaak?”

Shaak tilts her head. “Master Gallia has her starfighters on route to the Esstran sector,” she says, “and Master Unduli will meet her there. I don’t believe we’ll be missed for a while yet.” Smiling, she steps back, and says, “Why don’t you see what rations we have back at the ship? The nights here are warm enough that we should be fine sleeping in the open.”

“Sure,” Tup says, smiling back, and turns, picking up a jog. At the edge of the river, he leaps, and—

It’s a Jedi move, the tumbling flip he pulls. Like gravity and Human limits aren’t a thing for him anymore. Jango's seen plenty of Jedi do that, and it gets to him every time. Not normal, he thinks, and breathes out.

That’s his clone pulling those moves, though. It’s Jango's genes that made him, even if he ended up with the ability to manipulate the Force, and Jango has no idea what to do with that.

Shaak watches her padawan disappear into the trees, then folds her hands into her sleeves. Tips her chin up, one short motion, and then says, “Jango Fett. Did Geonosis not teach you a lesson?”

Kriffing _Jetii_. Jango scowls, but he pulls off his helmet as he steps forward. “Geonosis taught me your Order’s head is soft of kids,” he says curtly. “Good weakness to exploit.”

“Most Jedi are weak for children,” Shaak agrees, and turns to face him.

She’s pretty. Exceptionally pretty, even for a Togruta. The cool willingness to do violence in her eyes might have something to do with that, Jango thinks. He’s always had a weakness for women who’d fight him to a standstill.

“You too?” Jango asks. He only registers that it might sound like a threat when her lips thin, her head coming up. There are a _lot_ of teeth on her akul-tooth headdress, which means that whatever beast she took out, it was an old one. Jango's never faced an akul, and never particularly wanted to. Togruta are a little insane for doing it with nothing but traditional weapons, he’s always thought.

Looks like she was _extra_ insane. That’s either really promising or really, really not, depending on how this goes.

“Yes,” Shaak says, and she hasn’t moved, but her gaze hasn’t wavered from Jango, either. “I think you'll find, Fett, that I have a particular weakness for my padawan.” She smiles, perfectly composed, and Jango's never seen an otherwise entirely polite smile look so much like a threat before. “One that will not be tempered by the fact that you and he share a face.”

Sithing hells. Jango eyes her, then glances in the direction of her starfighter. Takes a deliberate step back, and says, “I just want to know what happened, that one of my clones ended up a Jedi.”

Shaak raises a cool brow. “The Force happened, Fett,” she says, like he’s an idiot for not realizing that. Jango's eyes narrow, and he contemplates how satisfying it would be to pull a blaster on her. Jedi tend to regard blasters as fun lightsaber practice more than anything, though, and Jango's not committed enough to the idea of killing her to go for his slugthrower. The bullets are expensive.

“Luck of the draw?” he demands. “That’s all it was? You didn’t change him?”

Startling, Shaak's expression eases. The threat settles into amusement, and she raises a hand, covering her smile. “No,” she says, patient, warm. “We did nothing to Tup. The Force works as it will, for him and every other Force-sensitive clone trooper.”

Which means there are more his contact on Kamino just didn’t tell him about. That…might put some things in a different light. Not a Jedi plot to get Mandalorian Jedi, but—Jedi taking on padawans as they appear, like they do in almost every other culture. Jango runs a hand over his hair, fighting with the urge to find Bric and stab him a few times for leaving that out, and then asks, “How many?”

“Several dozen, so far,” Shaak says readily. “Including older clones who wanted training for control, but not to be padawans.” Her smile curls into something full of mischief, and she says, “I believe one of them is Ponds.”

Ponds. The clone serving with Windu. Jango's eyes narrow, and he gives her a dark look. “And why the hell’s that funny?”

Shaak gives him an amused look. “Because, by Mandalorian law, the clones are your sons. And I believe that makes Mace your son-in-law.”

Jango's brain stalls. Mace Windu. Ponds. _Son-in-law_. With a groan, he shuts his eyes, trying to push the images away. One of _his clones_ , deciding to tap that. He would much, much rather have never known that in any way.

Shaak is laughing at him. Quietly. Politely. But her almost purple eyes are bright with humor, and she’s not even trying to hide it. Jango gives her a dark look, but before he can say anything, there's a shout. A _familiar_ shout. Jango turns automatically, Shaak doing the same, and is just in time to see Tup grab Boba around the waist and leap the river again. They land awkwardly, but Boba doesn’t let it stop him, just staggers a step and says, “Dad, leave her alone.”

Betrayal on all sides, Jango thinks, and rolls his eyes. “She’s a Jedi,” he says flatly.

“She’s Tup's Master,” Boba says, unimpressed. “He’s not even my age yet.”

Tup skirts carefully around Jango, then hurries up to Shaak, planting himself beside her. “I won't let you do anything to her,” he says firmly. “Even if you're the Original. I don’t care.”

Jango doesn’t get any respect from anyone anymore. He scowls at his son, but Boba just folds his arms over his chest, looking stubborn, and then glances at Shaak.

“Mace said you were the one to kill Grievous,” he says. “Is that true?”

Jango hadn’t heard _that_. A little startled, he glances at Shaak, and she meets his eyes with that perfectly composed smile still in place. “Yes,” she says. “I tied his cloak to a piece of machinery, and while he was distracted I crushed his body, since it was all metal.”

Kriff. That’s one way to deal with a cyborg. Jango eyes Shaak, even as Tup grins.

“It was great,” he says. “He didn’t even _notice_ his cloak getting knotted around the lift.”

Boba looks at him, then at Shaak. Turns to Jango, and says, “Tup said we can stay and train with them.”

“Did he?” Jango gives Tup a look, expecting him to flinch, but—

Tup's spine pulls straight, and he meets Jango's gaze like it’s a challenge. “We’re brothers,” he says, halfway to a dare. “And Master Windu says Boba is his second favorite clone.”

Jango closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to even _begin_ to think about who the first favorite is.

With a quiet chuckle, Shaak steps forward and bows to Boba. “It’s an honor to meet you, Boba Fett,” she says. “I've heard very good things about you.”

Boba accepts this as his due. “Are you going to train with lightsabers? Dad says I need to work on my aim.”

“I believe we can arrange something,” Shaak agrees, and turns her smile on Jango, the akul teeth she’s wearing catching the sun. _Hunter_ , that smile says. Jango refuses to be interested in the potential. “Jango?”

If the Jedi wants to spar, Jango's not about to say no. Especially when Boba and Tup are both looking at him like that. “Fine,” he says curtly, and Shaak chuckles. Deliberately, she drops her robe, stepping out of the pile of cloth, and reaches for the lightsaber on her sash.

“I’ve heard very interesting things about your skills,” she says. “Would you indulge me with a match?”

Karking hells. Something out there is trying to test Jango, and he’s not a fan. But—

“Why the hell not,” he says, and tosses Boba his helmet.

Instantly, Boba grins, and says, “He’s weak on his left side, Master Ti.”

 _Traitor_ , Jango thinks, but Tup is laughing, and Boba looks delighted with himself, and all he can do is roll his eyes.

“You’re cleaning the hold as soon as we’re back on the ship,” he warns Boba, who waves, entirely unrepentant.

“Maybe keep your eyes on the Jedi, Dad,” he says, half an instant before Shaak sweeps Jango's feet out from under him and dumps him on his ass.

In retaliation, Jango grabs her by the arm and drags her down into the dirt with him. The fact that she's laughing as she goes has no bearing on anything.

It’s somehow not nearly as objectionable as it Jango would have thought an hour ago.

**Works inspired by this one:**

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